Drunken Encounter
by Caliga
Summary: Has Gibbs finally made a mistake? No, of course not. Tony's POV.
1. Chapter 1

_**Drunken Encounter**_

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Except for the title's namesake.

A/N: Hmm. This actually happened to me. It was hilarious. I'm also known to have Compulsive Dialogue Literature. As in, most of my writing is dialogue. I'm also a very mediocre writer, and don't capture the characters all that well. I just have fun. There aren't very many impressive words, if one. So...judge based on that info. And if you still want to read after that, you're very brave.

Rated: T for alcohol content.

Relationships: However you want to interpret it. Please let me know if you notice anything...no matter how subtle.

Continuity: Mid season 3.

Summary: Has Gibbs finally made a mistake? No, of course not. Tony's POV.

XXX

Of all the things people had told him, and all the things he'd heard and seen in his life, this particular situation was not only wrong, it was the most disturbing thing he'd ever encountered. How could this be happening? There was only one perfectly logical explanation for it all. It wasn't. Consciously, anyway. It was all in his head. After all, Jethro Gibbs was a logical man, with intelligence. But, given the circumstances, he couldn't be too sure of his mental health. Should he say something? To deter such unspeakable terror? He had lives to think of, and not just his own. And that did include his Boss. How could he be doing this to himself? He had to be stopped. There were safer, and much better ways of going about the situation. It wasn't all just a conspiracy.

"You're not _really_ gonna let McGee drive, are ya Boss?" Tony scoffed.

Gibbs ignored the remark and shoved his gun in its holster. He threw his pack over his shoulder and led the way to the elevator. Ziva and a slightly agitated McGee followed, hurriedly. Tony grabbed his gear and quickly made up the time he had lost mulling over the new information.

"C'mon, Boss!"

"Shut up, DiNozzo. My driving record is clean." All four agents waited impatiently for the elevator.

"Oh, I'm sure it is. When are we gonna get there? Next week?"

"I believe you, McGee," Ziva smiled at the probationary agent. Tony was sure McGee's self esteem jumped off its charts at the comment.

"You would," Tony rolled his eyes. "You're probably the VP right under McGee here in the 'People Who Cause Road Rage Association.'

"There's a cure for that kind of irritation, you know, Tony."

"What, your little organization developed a cure for road rage?"

"No, we leave that up to the NRA," Ziva turned to smirk at Tony, who was too late in concealing the fact that he had been making faces behind her back.

The elevator doors finally opened. Gibbs was the first to step inside, as always. Ziva attempted to follow, but was met with a firm "No, take the stairs." The doors closed, nearly missing her face.

"Look what you did."

"Me? Why is it always my fault?"

"Because it always _is_!" Ziva grabbed McGee's arm and led him to the stairwell.

"I don't appreciate your cynicism!" he called after her. "Screw that," he pushed the 'down' button. "I'm gonna beat you guys down!" He waited, rocking back and forth on his heels. He put a hand to his stomach.

_I probably shouldn't have had that Mexican stuff last night. I'm never going there again. That's the last time I listen to Owens...about food anyway. The date he set me up with wasn't half bad. Melinda? Melissa...Lisa, Liza...Jasmine! _ Tony smiled to himself, remembering the voluptuous blonde. _Whew, it's about time!_

The elevator opened again, and Tony bounded in and pushed the button for the ground floor. He started humming the 'Magnum, P.I.' theme to himself and began to check his hair in the metallic doors as the floor numbers slowly lit up above him in descending order. Though, it did distort his body, so some things were a lot thinner and some parts were a lot wider. He began to make different faces at the doors and in different sections. When the doors slid apart, he quickly readjusted himself and bounded out again, and noticed McGee and Ziva just getting out of the stairwell. "Haha! I _did_ beat you!"

"DiNozzo!"

"Hi, Boss!"

"I told you to take the stairs."

"I didn't think you were serious, Boss...and it was faster." He pulled the falling strap of his bag back to his shoulder.

"Do you always assume faster is better?"

Tony knew Gibbs must've had a rough night, so he didn't persist, and simply tailed the team. This was a man who had taken over three years to build a frame for a boat. Though, he couldn't remember a time when he didn't want things done quickly. Tony realized he was looking into something he probably would never understand anyway. Gibbs didn't realize or appreciate what a kind and generous guy he had working for him.

"Follow me, McGee," Gibbs tossed him the keys to the truck before making a sharp right in the parking lot.

His stomach dropped. There were only three seats in the truck, and the sudden realization that Gibbs didn't care who was driving the truck; he wouldn't be in it. "Awe, can't I drive the Charger?"

"I'm not even gonna answer that."

"Can I ride shot gun?" But Gibbs was already starting up the engine.

_You might as well accept the fact that you are going to experience McGee's "driving" first hand. Where is Ziva going?_

"HEY! Why do you get special treatment!"

"I think the question you really need to ask yourself is: why don't _you_ get special treatment?" Ziva flashed a smug grin before sliding into the front seat of the black Charger next to Gibbs.

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

"DiNozzo! You better get in here if I'm gonna be able to follow them."

Tony's glare at the departing vehicle immediately shifted to McGee, who actually fell into the truck, as if hit by some invisible force. Tony held him there a moment before taking a few heavy steps to the truck.

"I'm driving."

"I'll tell Gibbs," McGee muttered quickly. Probably without thinking.

Tony decided that didn't even deserve an insult. "By the way, don't ever give me an order again or I'll introduce your face to your colon."

McGee swallowed. "But Gibbs said--"

"Does it look like I care right about now?"

"Uh, well--oh, your phone, Tony!"

His phone actually was vibrating. He reluctantly stepped away from McGee (who took the opportunity to run to the driver's seat and lock the doors) and took his phone out. It was Gibbs. He flipped it open, and before he had the chance to put it to his ear, an angry voice said something about "the truck" and "time" and "bullets."

"It's for you, McGee!"

XXX

A/N: It's short, I know. But the main plot will start next chapter. I promise. Oh and the part that happened to me hasn't been written yet. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

_**Drunken Encounter**_

Chapter 2

Summary: Tony and McGee discuss Braveheart...or something like it.

XXX

"So, it's like this, Probie. Stay inside the dotted lines."

"I thought _you_ were driving..." the sneer wasn't hidden all too well. McGee would learn. His street smarts left, well, nothing to the imagination. He started up the engine and left the parking lot at a slow crawl.

"Uh, had a change of heart. Thought I'd go through another near-death experience."

"So Gibbs has the key to your heart, then?"

Tony was taken aback by the comment. Did McGee really suggest a homosexual joke upon him? "Are you taking comedy lessons from Ziva, now?"

"Naw, I learn from the best!" he patted Tony's shoulder.

"Dotted lines, Probie!" Tony pointed at the road. All he was doing was feeding the trolls. _Don't give him any distractions, and you might just live._

A few silent moments later, Tony couldn't help but to speak. It was in his nature. "Did you ever see Braveheart?"

"Uh, what...?"

"Ya know...Mel Gibson...William Wallace? C'mon, Probie, it's part of Earth's history!"

McGee didn't respond. He kept his arms rigid and his hands tight around the large black wheel. He stared out directly in front of him, with no hint as to what he was thinking on his face. The only movement he made was checking his mirrors every now and then. Even his breathing seemed rhythmic.

"We really need to visit the video store--"

"I've _seen_ it, Tony."

"Oh," he frowned, "Why didn't you say so?"

"Because..." he trailed off. "Can you see Gibbs?"

Tony scanned the cars in front of them. There was the usual rusty hick truck, the blonde in the red convertible, the family van, and the 'pimped out ride' with the bass turned up to high. The black Charger was directly three cars in front of them. "You can't see the car that's basically emitting that 'come near me and die,' vibe?"

"Right."

"And don't change the subject again."

"Okay."

There was a silence again. McGee appeared to be basking in it, occasionally making it obvious by smiling and humming to himself. Even the sun came out from behind the clouds to shine on McGee's already bright expression.

"Why didn't you _say_ so?" Tony repeated suddenly.

"Oh, look. It's starting to rain."

"Oh c'mon, Probie! We're _bonding_!"

"You really want to know, Tony?"

"Yes. I do, McGee. Let it out...let it flow."

"Alright. I'll tell you why," he squeezed the wheel, "I thought you'd make some joke about how you'd do to me what they do to William Wallace at the end."

"Oh." Tony hadn't thought of that, but he should've. He found it a little too amusing and laughed out loud. "You _did_ defy a king, Probie."

"Since when is Gibbs a king?"

"...since when did you defy Gibbs?"

McGee shook his head knowingly, "You were talking about yourself, weren't you?" He didn't give Tony a chance to respond, "This is exactly why I said I hadn't seen the movie. You always make a big dramatic thing over it. Actually, you do either way."

"You brought it up! I hadn't even thought of it."

"How was I supposed to know that?" he suddenly looked panic stricken. "Where did Gibbs go?"

"This is exactly why probies don't drive." Tony burst out laughing.

"It's not that funny, Tony."

"_Now_ you've defied Gibbs! Do I get to disembowel you?" he was smiling only in a way a cat might smile as it tortures a mouse before killing it. McGee ignored him and parked in front of a Mexican restaurant as they drove into Georgetown.

"Never go there." Tony pointed at the red-bricked section squished between a Nike shoe store and a souvenir shop. Even McGee didn't deserve that kind of pain.

McGee shook his head, again. "Should we call Gibbs, then?"

"Um, _you_ should call Gibbs."

"Why me?"

Tony scoffed, "_You_ lost him."

McGee threw his hands up, "You distracted me!"

"I still don't really understand this whole...it's always my fault thing. When you really think about it, Gibbs made you drive, so--" Tony stopped.

"Oh, say it, Tony."

Tony leant toward McGee and lowered his voice, "He has the truck wired, I'm sure." He wasn't about to admit _anything_ was Gibbs' fault out loud, especially with McGee as a material witness.

McGee rolled his eyes. This is exactly why he would never go anywhere near a video store with Tony.

"Hey, look! The 'Movie Emporium'! You call Gibbs, and then come get me when you sew your ear back on," he opened the passenger door and hopped out. He turned to close the door and found a red-faced McGee shaking his head.

"What? He'll yell it right off, McGee, I'm not kidding you..."

"No, I mean, don't go."

"Awe, afraid to be alone?"

"No, Ziva just messaged me," McGee scanned his Blackberry, "I know where they are."

"Oh!" he threw his pack at McGee and jumped back in. "Then what are you waiting for? Let's go!"

"What's _in _that?" McGee started the engine with one hand and rubbed his newly sore cheek with the other.

"Oh, just a couple of bricks..." Tony smiled to himself as he checked through his bag. "What was my gun doing in here? Hmm." He pulled it out to put it in his holster. "Oops, the safety's not on, either." He didn't have to wait too long for McGee's reaction, which was purely silent worry and concern. His face was totally drained with blood.

"You threw your pack at me...with a loaded gun in it?"

"No! I was just demonstrating what it is you make experienced agents like myself feel when you make rookie mistakes," he pulled the trigger of his squirt gun, hitting McGee's bruised cheek twice with a thin stream of water. "Lessoned learned, no harm, no foul."

"I hate you, DiNozzo."

"You'd get along well with my father."

This time the silence was awkward, and the rain continued to fall lightly on the vehicle. Tony hadn't meant for it to be uncomfortable, but it was hard when McGee took it seriously. The longer they stayed quiet, the more the tension built up between them, almost crushing them against the sides of the vehicle. They came up to a red light near the end of Georgetown. Tony turned to tell McGee an icebreaker, but found him rolling down his window as a man waved and jogged to the side of the truck.

He seemed average enough, short, dark kempt hair, clean shaven, tanned, with a dark blue blazer and light jeans. Though, Tony noted, he was only about 5'6''. "Hey, can I get a ride?"

"Uh..." McGee was obviously expecting him to ask for directions or something of the like.

"No, McGee!" Tony hissed.

"Please? My 12-year-old kid is just at the Arcade. I haven't lived here very long, I don't really know where I am."

"Uh, okay...go around to the passenger side," McGee frowned as he rolled his window up.

Tony gaped at him. "McGee! What the hell are you thinking? This is a _government_ vehicle!"

Before he could respond, Tony's door swung open. "Uh, hi there, Buddy. We actually--oh, okay!" The man stepped up into the truck, positioning to step over Tony. "You know what? I'll move over..." Tony shifted himself to the center seat next to McGee, who was cowering under Tony's glare.

"Thanks, guys, I really appreciate it."

Tony's eyes involuntarily widened at the sudden and excessive sent of alcohol filled his nose, mixed with familiar cologne. The man slammed his door closed.

"Uh, no problem." McGee muttered. The three of them sat quietly, the all too common tension easing its way around their bodies.

_When the hell is the light gonna turn!_

After eternity and then some went by, the red light faded, and the green light beckoned to Tony like something from the divine. It was all shattered when someone in a silver Camry went through a red light coming the other way, causing McGee to slam on the breaks. "Whoever taught him to drive might want to consider shooting themselves," Tony muttered, shaking his head. McGee chuckled quietly to himself. Their guest, hearing this, forced a loud, distinctive nasal, high pitched laugh, that caused the two agents to shudder with a mixture of annoyance and pure uncomfortable emotional pain.

"Sorry, got a little too excited, there."

_Are we there yet?_

XXX

TBC


End file.
